A House Divided
by RainKrystal
Summary: The American Civil War as seen by the States and several Nations. There are no heroes. There is no black and white, only shades of gray, here.


**Warning: **OCs contained within, also will contain tragedy and warfare as well as the drama that comes from a massive family that's been missivley shattered.  
**Diclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia. If I did, I'd be very rich indeed. The OCs are mine, though.  
**Rating:** T.  
**Note:** Posted around 2 minutes from midnight on the 150th anniversary of the actual date of secession. Will get longer, and references a lot of historical background that I will attempt to explain in the historical notes.

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_**December 20th, 1860**_

_**Washington D.C.**_

America sits in his study, the one room in his large house he almost never ventures into. The study is a place for thinking, long and deep. It's a room for melancholy and memories, two things that America hardly ever has any use for. He's usually too busy living in the present, taking care of the children that have decided America is going to be their "father," an idea he's still not used to. They're still sleeping, the sun hasn't risen yet over the capital, and it's very rare that America is up before one of the States or Territories can wake him.

He'd normally try to appreciate the moment of silence while it lasted, but silence is all America has had for the last several hours, as the Nation never went to sleep last night. He's been awake this entire time, just thinking. Too many thoughts have been running circles in his head for him to simply fall asleep. The circles are showing under his eyes, worn tracks where his thought have deprived him hours of sleep he sorely needs. But his mind will not let him, his aches will not let him and most of all his people will not let him.

Trouble is coming. America can feel it in his bones, a phrase he never would have used before, but it's an accurate description of the sensation. He's not even 100 years old yet, which makes him rather young for a Nation but still his bones ache with the storm he knows will swiftly be coming over the horizon. It's been coming for almost 100 years now, ever since he was young, rebelling against everything he knew. America can hear it in the whispers to the south, the barely restrained sentiment of anger and discontent. His people are tired of compromises, and frankly, America is too. But compromises are all he has left. Slavery is an abomination to be sure, but it has become the axis on which the South dangles itself over the abyss, and with them hangs America.

The issue is not nearly as simple as the Northern States claim it is, though America wishes it was. He wishes he could just make it go away and fix everything, all the problems, all the bickering. But he can't. Families are just built to bicker, it seems. It's something America wouldn't be able to change n matter how much he tried. His family, his "children" are always going to pick fights with each other, things that he can try to regulate but they always resent him for stepping in, ever since the beginning, when they would prey on each other's economies for the first years before the Constitution.

America thinks back to when the originals were still young, still teenagers, still getting into petty fights, the way Delaware had shocked them all into listening to each other at the Constitution Convention. How Virginia had proposed the structure they would launch from and then how South Carolina had stood to say that he had had the very same idea, just that Virginia had gotten there first. He remembers New Jersey's failed proposal, the fierce cries of the small States, screaming that they would be heard just as well as their larger "siblings." The way they had toiled endlessly with their Representatives, working long and hard to hammer out what would become the framework for America. They had been building America then, and through all the bickering they had made a document that is still standing today, over 70 years later. The past is all he's been able to think of, this last day or so, the feeling that it is important, that his memories are more important now than they ever had been.

Something is fast approaching over the horizon -and God knows it's the Southern horizon, for it always is- and all America seems to be able to do is to reminisce, looking back on the days of blood and fire and righteousness, back when the villains wore red and the heroes had no uniforms. Except even then things were never so black and white. America had broken away, took the children-becoming young men and women that were the rebelling States to the battle fields for a better future. They all had fought and swore and cursed with the best of them, full of war songs and the assurance that they were in the right, and something of that old spirit is still in them today, muted, a little, but only barely. The old sureness is in them still, all of them from New Hampshire to Georgia, and America knows that he has it too, shining bright in the dim light of pre-dawn.

America glances out the study window, blue eyes unfocused as he peers out over the city. Dawn is not quite here yet, the sun is still hiding below the eastern horizon line and any light it could shed is muffled completely by the clouds that hang oppressive in the sky. It threatens to snow, but America doubts it will. Washington is a Southern town in climate at least if nothing else, though he prefers to think of it as _his_ city, the one in the Nation not arbitrarily categorized by anything other than "the capital." After all, Washington is America's heart city, he knows that well enough after having his brother set it on fire once. The burn wounds on his chest are still puckered and red after all these years, and that proves the physical connection if nothing else does.

America's founders built this city for him. They had stood on the shores of the Potomac and looked out over the water, asked for a parcel of land and received it. Then they built a city, proud and elegantly designed, though America still wonders why there isn't a J Street. The Founders had shaped things so that the city would forever be the only part of himself that America didn't have to share with his States. They made sure that America's capital would belong to no State in particular, because even back then they all knew that the kids were covetous little things. If any of them had been able to claim the capital, there would have been trouble eventually. That had already proved itself to be an issue over and over from the arguments New York and Pennsylvania had had over the resting place of the capital in the years before it was moved to Washington.

All the minor fights and the major ones have been playing through his head, memories of Revolution and tariffs and infighting and simple, familial bantering. How Ohio and Michigan fought for Toledo, how Michigan still nurses his grudge; New York and Massachusetts and New Jersey, a trio of companions that can never seem to get along; the Carolina brothers' supposed rivalry with Virginia, even though she never recognized how badly the brothers want to beat her at something. Virginia has been outdoing the brothers since before they existed. Roanoke versus Jamestown, Pickney versus Virginia's Richard Lee at the Constitutional Convention and so on. It's almost a shame that Virginia is completely unaware of how the brothers feel outdone by her, and how it wounds their pride. America doubts it would change anything of the way they interacted, but the brothers are too proud to admit what they feel.

So many of the memories America has been reliving this night are about fighting, his States fighting with one another, either together against an enemy, or bickering. If America was inclined to be superstitious, he'd be terrified. But he is not. He knows what South Carolina and the others have been threatening. It's the same thing they've been threatening since the Declaration was written. It's the only card the South has left to play, it seems, but America is positive they won't use it. None of them are stupid or shortsighted enough for _that_, for secession. Even though South Carolina had attempted to use the threat around 30 years ago, when Jackson was President it had been more a show of force than anything else as well as a duly noted protest against tariffs. But South Carolina had given up quick when Jackson had threatened to go down South himself and beat the State for his threat. South Carolina and his brother had always liked Jackson, their favorite President, it seems, a strong Carolina lawyer born on the border between brothers. They had also learned to understand after that that Jackson held them to the highest standard because of the fact that they were his home States. But at the same time, it had only driven the gap wider between the North and South, making the divide something ultimately so much harder for America to attempt to straddle.

It doesn't help that these days his family keeps growing, forever westward in the completion of Manifest Destiny. America's people are rushing west with a steady influx of immigrants, taking up space and land and destiny as they populate all the empty spaces. It's beautiful new civilizations create themselves, creating their own Territories and States all over the map that falls west of the Appalachians. And in some cases, life is found where it by all intents and purposes shouldn't be. But Virginia can keep her own secrets well enough, and he doesn't need to bother her about them. America trusts the State to make the right decision about the boy she found in her lands, though he admits he's not sure what the right decision is. The entire situation is complicated by symptoms of the oncoming storm, and perhaps Virginia is right to not make any decisions about the boy just yet. After what had happened to poor Kansas, America isn't sure that there _should_ be any new States even being talked about right now.

"Dad?" America blinks as the sun begins to finally rise, turning to look at the source of the confused-sounding voice. Kansas is standing in the doorway of the study, rubbing his right eye with his knuckles. "How come you're awake so early?" The boy asks.

"You know, I could probably ask you the same thing, little guy." America responds, still a little lost in thought. Kansas takes his hand away from his eye as he stops rubbing at it, revealing the large scar that covers his right eye in a slash, standing out pink against his tanned skin. It's hardly a two year old scar, but it's still fresh on the boy's face. America's heart fall at the idea that Kansas had gotten that scar before he could even become a State.

"You're staring again, Dad." Kansas says quietly, sounding a little ashamed and America shakes himself a little, trying to smile.

"I'm sorry." He says. "I'll try better not to stare. You know, it really is starting to fade." He lies, and Kansas smiles a little.

"You think so?" He asks hopefully.

"Definitely." America responds, standing up, forcing himself back into the present. He was starting to feel stiff and old from sitting there awake and by himself all night, doing nothing but thinking. It wasn't the best way to spend his night, but he was unable to do much anything else, it seems. "Want to go make breakfast, or to wake everyone up?" He asks the Territory.

Kansas thinks for a moment as the two of them leave the study. "Let's get Nebraska first." He decides after a second or two. "I want to cook before we wake the others up, and she knows how to make really good bacon."

America nods, trying hard to smile without it being a lie. "Okay, we can do that. After all, everyone's _always_ in the mood for bacon in the morning." He informs the kid and Kansas smiles genuinely as they walk down the hall, making a little easier for America to try and do the same.

_**Charleston, South Carolina.**_

Mississippi stands by his side as South Carolina watches as the ships come into the harbor, carrying all sorts of goods that his people call for. Ships are leaving the harbor as well, but they mostly carry the same things; sailors and rice and cotton. The plantation goods that make the South necessary leave the harbor almost daily and the ships always return with luxuries and necessities, essential items of trade that helps South Carolina stay afloat. The ships are as much a part of Charleston as the harbor itself, and South Carolina thinks it would be strange to wake up one morning and find them gone.

But quickly, he clears his mind of idle thoughts, collecting himself as best he can in the face of what is taking place behind him. South Carolina is used to being party to history, getting a chance to shape it with his own hands, but now he's going to leave an indelible mark, one that will never be forgotten for as long as he exists. South Carolina is going to secede, and from the fact that they came to witness this even, he is sure enough that Alabama and Mississippi will follow him.

They had made their decision months ago during the primaries during the debates between Douglas and Davis for the Democrats' vote. South Carolina had known then that the black Republicans' candidate would win the election. The vote in his own Democratic party had been split on the question of the primary, and on the rift that has now opened itself between the Northwest and the South, as it seems they're Northerners after all, Democrats or not. There is no way that the North won't undo the South now that they will prove they have the power to do so. When Lincoln wins, there will be no more South anymore. There will only be broken shells of the States that used to call the lands home, economically and culturally broken as they are overrun by their own property.

South Carolina scowls. Abolition. It's a filthy word, the root of all his problems lately. Well, Abolition and the North. His idiot soon to be ex-"siblings" think that the "problem" can be solved with a snap of their fingers. The slaves are their own issue, either they will remain slaves or they will be gradually emancipated. And the way things have been going are not the worst, and the Northerners can't honestly believe they would last long without the cotton that allows their textile mills to run, and how do you get cotton in a timely manner without slavery and the plantations it supports? South Carolina has never gotten a rational answer to that question, and he doubts he ever will.

So he isn't going to wait while the North disassembles him. He's already sent his letters around, done the calling of reinforcements. The entirety of the South knows what he's about to do, though so far Mississippi and Alabama have agreed to come with him, and Mississippi was the one who did so in writing. Her small statement, "If you lead, I will follow." The letter had said. It's much more than the letters full of disbelief and cautioning words that the rest had sent him. North Carolina, his own brother had refused to come with him for secession. And now Mississippi stands by him at the window while Alabama skulks about the front entrance to the hall as the people of Charleston vote on Secession. Mississippi has the same faraway look on her face she's always worn, her eyes slightly unfocused as if she's a thousand miles away. She and Alabama are the only real friends South Carolina has left, it seems. At the least, no one has tipped off America and Buchanan yet, giving South Carolina the time to make his statement of Independence, which is good.

The whole process seems a bit familiar, after all, it reminds him of the last time he did this, declaring himself Independent of his oppressor. The only thing that has changed since the Revolution is the face and name of the villain. America has been failing to protect the South, and South Carolina is sick of compromises and half-hearted threats delivered by incompetent leaders. Jackson was the only one of the Presidents lately to respond when South Carolina had stirred up trouble. The Navy's presence in his waters had been enough to convince South Carolina that his "father" hadn't been kidding around. Jackson had sent South Carolina a letter then that in no uncertain terms had told him that Nullification was unconstitutional and that Jackson would come down to give the State a good beating himself if he had to. So South Carolina had backed down, but only _after_ Congress listened about the choking tariffs. It was not a compromise, but a real case of the North having to listen. In the end of course, it only made things worse for everyone, but it had worked for a time. The North had learned that South Carolina was willing to cause trouble to accomplish things, they learned to take him seriously.

That hadn't lasted long, though. Very quickly the South became ignored again, treated like abominable people for their livelihoods. So few of the people in the South own more than a slave or two, and the idea that the entire South is full of terrible oppressors is just plain silly to South Carolina's mind. Even if they did free the slaves, what would they do? They have no educations, and no way of obtaining them and South Carolina highly doubts that his soon to be ex-"siblings" would be willing to pay to send ex-slaves to their fancy Northern universities.

But the North will not listen, and America seems to be increasingly drawn to their side, so South Carolina is going to make his stand. He turns from the window as his Representatives settle the various points of the Declaration of Secession. As the signatures line up, South Carolina smiles, and wonders if this will be another shot heard 'round the world, or at least throughout the country. The people of Charleston finish voting, and South Carolina waits as the votes are counted.

Alabama walks over, his scowl gone for the first time that South Carolina can remember with the vote tally in hand around an hour later, and South Carolina smiles as well, reading the positive results.

"I did it." He tells the two States, beaming. Alabama looks back, smiling too "I'm going to be free, everyone!" He says animatedly, starting to get rather excited as the reality of what he's done sinks in. South Carolina throws back his head and laughs, then yells at the top of his lungs, feeling stronger than he has in years. "I'm free! I'm free I'm free I'm free!" He shouts it over and over again like a litany, and outside, his people start to cheer as the results are announced.

_**Washington D.C.**_

America is telling a story to his "children," one about ships that fly with bird wings when he feels it. Suddenly, somewhere in his midsection he feels a crushing pain, and America doubles over in the sharp pain. America cries out mid-sentence and the States and Territories look at him worriedly. America tries to tell them it's okay, but he finds that he can't, the best he can do is try to conjure a smile through the throbbing pain. It feels like he's been stabbed. From the look of horror on his "children's" faces, America can tell that his attempt at a reassuring smile has failed.

After that realization, America slumps backwards against the trunk of the oak tree he tells stories under. Kansas looks at him in worry, panic on the faces of all of the children. "Dad?" Kanasas yells, but it sounds muffled to America's ears. The Nation wishes that an older State was still living in the house, like Iowa, except he moved out years ago. If there was an older State, then they would be able to take care of the children and America would be able to pass out in peace. Instead, he is forced to try and ride out the pain as he realizes that he's just lost a part of himself. After a moment of difficult thought, America realizes just who he's lost.

South Carolina has seceded. And though the world does not hear the shot, America certainly _feels_ it. Looking out to the horizon, America sees that the storm that was looming before is now directly overhead. It's going to break soon.

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**Author's Notes:** This chapter took me some time to make sure that I had my outline done. I'm not ever going to try and tackle something this massive without one again. In a funny/rather pathetic note, South Carolina celebrated this occurance today, or at least some of his people did. The NAACP plus almost everyone else who even makes an effort to be politically correct are out for blood.  
**Historical Notes:  
Bleeding Kansas-** Kansa's scar. Pretty much Kanas got to be the battlefield for a proxy war between the Abolitionists and the pro-slavery people. Popular sovreignty meant that the people could vote on whether the State was going to be slave or free. People died, to make a long story short, and for a Territory that was just trying to grow up, having a bunch of outsiders suddenly show up and start killing each other and some of your people on your front lawn is really not cool.  
**Nullification Crisis-** South Carolina called America's pro-North, pro-industry "Tariff of Abominations" null and void. This was quickly undone by Andrew Jackson, who declared basically that if he had to go down South, he was going to hang the leader of South Carolina's little getup from the highest tree in the state unless South Carolina stopped threatening to seceed. He also at another point said that he was going to go south and "hang whoever he got his hands on." Whatever you might want to say about Jackson, that is admittedly pretty badass in a truly terrifying way, as is most everything the man did.  
**The Primary-** The 1860 Democratic Party's primary. Caused a major schism in the Democrat party. South Carolina's Governor actually sent those letters to other Southern Governors after the primary to see who would back him if they left the Union. Mississippi was the only one to answer affirmatively, while the rest cautioned that there was still room for more compromises. Mississippi also said that they would only go if South Carolina went first.  
**Secession Convention-** The vote was held in Charleston, and both Mississippi and Alabama sent representatives to urge South Carolina on. After South Carolina went, the other six original seceders followed within months.


End file.
